


The Professor In AD-1-21

by aenor_llelo



Series: For A Diamond Is A Marveled Thing [9]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Steven Universe (Cartoon), The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Genre: Body Horror, Gem Fusion, Gemsong, Gen, I'm Coming Out Swinging With The Hot Take Of Banner/Hulk Being Analagous To Gem Fusion, If You Ever Read The Comics Hulk Is Actually Pretty Fucking Weird Just Conceptually, Just A Pinch Of Mental Instability, Nonbinary Steven Universe, Obscure Comics Lore, Post-Steven Universe Future, Smart Hulk (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23663341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aenor_llelo/pseuds/aenor_llelo
Summary: Bruce Banner is finally run ragged by his ghosts, and breaks.But Gems know a thing or two about putting putting people back together.
Series: For A Diamond Is A Marveled Thing [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604959
Comments: 150
Kudos: 649





	1. Not The Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of a series. Please read the prior fics for full context and understanding.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce Banner is not afraid of ghosts.
> 
> Just one.

* * *

He turned back into Bruce Banner after a week.

One whole week wanted by the US military.

One whole week lost in the East Coast wilderness.

One whole week as the Hulk.

_One whole week as the Hulk._

He would have screamed. But he didn't. He _couldn't_.

He couldn't do much of anything, at the moment.

He couldn't do much of anything but shiver in the half dead hollow of a tree until...

...until...

...he doesn't even know. He doesn't even know what he's waiting for.

Bruce Banner closes his eyes, hoping and dreading the moment that someone finds him.

=<>=

On the second day, someone stands over him.

A girl, he thinks. She stands over him in her hiking clothes, the bloody snap in her neck dripping down on him with her bone exposed.

She stares down his neck and their eyes meet.

And her eyes grow _mad_ , raw splintered hands reaching towards him like the hooks of talons and he ran.

He ran and saw her hands pass though his stumbling heels, and ran even more.

=<>=

It's like a dam had broken in his mind.

The moment he saw the first one, he started to see them all.

At first it was just her. The hiker girl. But then came the others.

Someone who had died mauled by some animal, their body torn beyond recognition.

A biker with the shards of his glasses still embedded in his eyes.

Some, it seemed, had simply died poor.

He quickly learned to never look them in the eyes. Never let them know they are seen. Because once they knew, they would never leave him be, and he'll find himself running again.

Their hands pass through him and it burns like ice, it burns like his father's hand, it burns like the bone hollow ache of waiting in a hospital room for a death that never comes.

=<>=

On the fourth day, he tries to find civilization again.

He knows that Ross will find him. He knows he will. He knows that when he's found, he'll be locked away so deep the world will forget his name.

It doesn't matter anymore. _It doesn't matter anymore._

Anything would be better than living like this, surrounded by fever-dream ghosts of the dead. Anything would be better than dying like this, starved and mad in the mountains and seeing green crawl up his throat in every reflection of water.

Anything better than the rising, tidal roar in the back of his mind, the thought that he might soon see one ghost too many.

That he might look out into a see of dead false faces and one day find his father's among them.

He runs, trying and failing to stamp out the violent twitch of muscle and bone, and the creep of a toxic green pooling under his nails.

=<>=

On the seventh day, he hears a voice. Voices?

Maybe he's finally lost it.

_Help_ , he breathes, and not a sound comes out of his mouth. A hacking cough claws out of his throat. _Help._

_H....h..._

The voices. They're getting farther away.

_h...._

Please. 

Please. _Please_ , someone... anyone...

_heh.... h..._

_Help... h... he...._

" _Help..._ "

The voices grow louder. Too loud, too much, and all around him is the sound of branches breaking underfoot.

" _No, no... please..._ "

Their voices are a litany of song in his brain, their faces through his tunneled vision a fevered dream of impossible colors.

"... _please don't..._ "

There's strange flashes of light. Something snakes around him and takes his body weightless from the ground.

Their songs roll against the current of his mind, louder and louder until he's finally swept away alongside them.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hulk can canonically see ghosts and astral forms. (It's a manifestation of Classic Bruce Banner Trauma)


	2. Catching Goldfish Barehanded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At least it's not a cell, not yet.
> 
> or
> 
> The aegis.

* * *

He grapples with consciousness with all the skill of a 3 year old trying to catch a goldfish barehanded. Graceless, painful to behold, and agonizingly slow. The dull ache of an IV creeps up the crook of his arm.

His breath knocks out of him in stuttering gasps. Not again, not again, he can't be tested on, he cant-

"Woah there," drawls a chill voice, a firm hand on his wrist. It's a young man in hospital scrubs. "Hey man."

"You're wearing sunglasses," Bruce chokes out.

"Chronic photophobia," the young man explains with a tap to his lenses. "Gotta live my life in shade." He leans a little forward in his chair. "Name's Buck."

"Are you... my doctor, or something?"

"Aw, nah man. I'm just an med school intern. I'm just watching for when you woke up. Which you did," he congratulates with a thumbs up. His tone is so sincere it crosses being borderline insulting twice over before settling somewhere kind. "And I'm also supposed to answer any questions who have. Which I'll be doin'." The kid- Buck? Is that even a real name- leans back into his chair. "Shoot 'em."

"Well, uh..." _very graceful, Banner. A real model of mental coherence._ "...how long was I out?"

" 's about two days. Not too bad for a case like yours."

"Like mine?"

"Yeah, man. I'll leave that to the doc, but I'll say this. You got real lucky you got found when you did, dude."

"How did I even get here?" _Wait._ "Where am I?" His breathing picks up. "I'm not in some kind of facility, am I?"

"Nah, man. We in a normal hospital." The heavy furrow of Buck's forehead twitches slightly. "Well, normal for here, I guess. This one's backed by the Gem empire."

Bruce chokes on his water at that last bit. " _The Gem empire?_ " he wheezes.

"Yeah, man. Beach County General Hospital. You were found by a group of Gems, so you got put under the aegis of Little Homeworld."

"Aegis?"

"Basically, they're covering for you. There were these laws drafted a few years back-"

"Thank you, Buddwick," a woman's voice cuts in. "I'll take it from here."

The young man gives one last parting thumbs up, sauntering out the door on gangly legs. The woman in his place is an older, severe faced sort with streaked black hair and gray bangs.

"So you're the John Doe." She spares a glance at his file before taking her seat. "I'm Doctor Maheswaran. I'll be asking you some questions, and hopefully I can answer some of yours."

Calm. Clinical. Bruce can respect that. "Alright," he shakily replies.

"First off, we'll be wanting your name." He stiffens. "It doesn't necessarily matter who you are, per se. You could be a convicted criminal and it won't change anything. We'll be proceeding the same as before. I'm just asking in order to test your memory. You were found in an incredibly disoriented state, and I just want to make sure there wasn't any lingering damage."

"Bruce. Robert Bruce Banner."

Her eyebrows shoot up, but otherwise she makes no comment. "Occupation?"

"Biochemist, nuclear physicist... I was unemployed for a while, worked a lot of odd jobs." He laughs a little nervously. "Worked as a back alley doctor in Brazil for a while."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that last part," she mutters. "What do you recall of the time period before you were brought to the hospital?"

"I was... in the woods for a few days? I tried to make it back to civilization, but I was too lost. I, uh..." _was a giant green monster for a week straight._ "...don't really remember how I _ended up_ in the woods."

She sighs. "I suppose that's to be expected." She looks back to her notes. "You showed signs of malnutrition, dehydration, and sleep deprivation. There was also some general bruising, scrapes and cuts. You're expected to make a full recovery, but we'd still like to keep you on the IV a little longer, and at least one more day for observation. There's also the fact that you've been put under aegis."

"That kid Buck was telling me about that."

"Yes. They'll probably have a few questions for you about you- your living situation, your general wellbeing. They may try to offer you additional aid. You are free to decline, but I just want you to know what to expect from them. But, for now, just rest."

"Will do," he laughs tiredly. "It's not like I have anything better to do."

He doesn't rest.

He stares at the sterile, off-white ceiling, stamping down the urge to rip the IV from out of his arm, probably failing at not having his fourth panic attack of the week.

Not one vein of green crawls through his body.

He doesn't know if he's relieved or terrified.

* * *


	3. Clutch Your Cotton Blankets And Think About Your Options

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visitor, a gift, and a possible future.

* * *

" _-And as always, this is Pearl Eye, for the Homeworld guy, back after the break."_

Bruce wakes up (and isn't _that_ a whole other thing, to realize he's even fallen asleep) to strange music worming through his brain, hazily opening his eyes.

"I didn't want to wake you," sings a soft voice. "You seemed so tired."

He stiffens. There's a Gem sitting in the visitor's chair. She's a rosy, freckled cloud of pink, big and broad in a way that _really shouldn't be reminding him of a Hulk but smaller_ , but kind of is. Though as far as he knows, the Hulk couldn't be trapped in a shirt to save his life. Or shoes. Or a vest.

He's never seen a Gem up close before. He met one once at Culver, a Sapphire brought in for a guest lecture on probability theory, but that had been a passing, distant thing. _First time for everything, I guess._

"Doctor Robert Bruce Banner, correct?" the low voice continues.

"Yeah, figures the doc would already tell you that." He squints gracelessly at her. She's settled just close enough to him that it's hard to make out her features. _God, I miss my glasses._ "And you are...?"

"Just some guy interested in your future."

"My... future."

A laugh, or some Gem approximation of it. "Well, you've been a missing person for many months, and now you've turned up in the woods. Makes me wonder what you're planning on doing with yourself afterwards."

"I-" he stops. "I don't think I should tell you. I don't want you passing anything along to the US government."

The Gem looks back at him, really looks at him. Large, dark eyes tunnel right through him, but they are not unkind. "A valid point, but I am not the US government. I have no obligation to pass along whatever you tell me to _anyone_." The Gem pauses with a blankly distant look. "Unless you've been, like, an axe murderer, or some kind of convicted international criminal. Have you been either of those things?"

"Not that I can recall."

"Then whatever you say doesn't leave this room unless you say so. I could even help you."

"It might piss off the military if you did."

"Not to be mean to your military, but they kind of can't do anything to us." She's got a point there.

"All right. Sure. What do I have left to lose at this point, anyway?" Bruce sighs, and it sounds more like a hysterical laugh than he'd like. "I was put on a government project for my biochemistry skills, doing "medical research". What I didn't know was that my employers were actually trying to recreate Dr. Erskine's formula with gamma radiation as a catalyst."

The Gem looks blankly at him. Right. An alien probably wouldn't know the nitty gritty of human history like that.

"It was a sort of... super soldier cocktail back in World War II," he elaborates. "There had only been one successful test subject before the doctor was killed, and the formula was lost forever. But that lab rat went on to become one of the most infamous soldiers in history, so people have been trying to recreate the formula ever since. Kind of wish they'd told me what I was really working with before I tested it on myself."

"Oh dear."

"Oh dear, indeed. I thought I was testing a cancer cure, but instead I got _something else_. Whenever I get too stressed or overwhelmed, I kind of turn into a big... green... monster thing. But it's like a whole other person. I can't control what he does, and he just goes off on a rampage until _he_ thinks the danger is gone. And I can hardly remember a bit of it afterwards." He smiles despairingly. "Big dumb doctor Banner, am I right?"

The Gem hums in thought. "You know, cases like yours aren't uncommon with Gems."

"Freaky radiation poisoning?"

"No, no. The, uh..." the Gem trips over her sing-song words. "...monster thing. It's like the Gem version of a nervous breakdown. Our bodies are our minds, y'know? If we lose control of our minds, we lose control over our physical forms." There's a hollow look in her eyes. "You don't know who you are, _what_ you are. Everything is just an agonizing mesh of incomprehensible data, and nothing makes sense other than the fact that everything hurts and that no matter what you do, you're not safe."

"That... actually sounds about right."

"For Gems, we have ways to treat it, or at least stabilize the Gem to have greater control over themselves. Like your condition, it's triggered by emotion." The Gem tilts her head consideringly. "If you stayed with us, we might be able to improve your condition, or at least understand it better."

"Sounds kind of risky on your end. What if the other guy comes out?"

"Like I said, we're used to dealing with situations like yours. If it came down to it, we'd be able to contain you."

"And if the military comes after me?" Banner presses. "Destructive time bomb or not, I'm the most successful result they got outta that project. They want to take me in for experimentation, and failing that, a way to leash me for their own purposes."

"There's ways to get around that-"

"How?" he spits distrustfully. "No offense, but you're just one Gem. What kind of authority do you have in the face of an entire country?"

The Gem simply smiles, tapping her white clawed fingers next to her eye. "The highest authority."

And he sees it. Subtle, but now that he knows it's there, impossible to ignore. There, in the center of those tunneling eyes, he sees diamonds. Dark, black diamonds.

_Diamond._

"Asteria Diamond," Bruce haltingly states. "You're Asteria Diamond."

"Got 'em in one," the Diamond smiles.

" _Oh_ _god,_ " he wheezes, " _I just snapped at a space god. Fuck..._ "

The Diamond's smile twitches with a particular squint at _space god_ , but makes no comment on it. "It's no trouble. You've been through a lot. It's not shocking if you're a little snappy right now."

"Sorry anyways, uh. Your... Majesty?"

She (he, the papers called him he) waves the title off with a loose brush of his hands. "None of that, right now. We're here to talk about _you_. Long story short, I can offer you protection. I can keep you out of human government hands, and give you a safe place to study and manage your condition."

"And what exactly are you getting out of this?"

"You need help, and we're in a position to offer it. Isn't that reason enough?" Asteria Diamond's smile gains an almost sad tilt. "If it makes you feel any better, you can see it as me keeping a volatile experimental weapon out of human hands. In that sense, keeping you in _our_ hands is in the Empire's best interest."

He... has a point. _And besides_ , whispers a bitter part of Bruce's brain, _it's not like you have anywhere else to go._

"Okay," he sighs. "I'll do it."

_It's not like I have a choice._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Pearl Eye_ is a comic that Hilary Florido, a boarder for _SU_ , made as a handout for SDCC 2018. It was a parody of _Queer Eye_ starring Blue and Yellow Pearl.
> 
> The Steven of this continuity is non-binary, but doesn't really care about what pronouns people use. Bruce doesn't know much about Gems, but does know that they're commonly referred to with feminine pronouns.


	4. Let The Records Show,

* * *

**By the good judgement of**

**the colony overseer of AD-1 (Terra), one**

**Bismuth Facet-J24 Hopper-D37A,**

**acting with the permission of**

**The Great Diamond Authority,**

**the human individual**

**Robert Bruce Banner,**

**of sound mind,**

**willingly submits himself to the wardenship of the institution that is**

**Little Homeworld,**

**of the Gem Empire,**

**until such time as his unique medical condition is treated or stabilized,**

**and he is deemed to pose no unique potential harm to his fellow humankind.**

* * *


	5. Hang In There, Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bob Banner and the 1 o' clock.

* * *

"Yo."

Bruce wakes up to the sun in his eyes- if the sun had a smile with too many wide, gappy rows of teeth, and shades hiding a nebulously unknown but decidedly uncomfortable amount of eyes. Which naturally, startles him awake. Unfortunately, startling involves jumping up and colliding his head right into the face of said sun.

"Ow," smiles a soft, raspy voice.

She's squatted down to meet his eye level on the couch- all those months of crashing on cots and couches haven't exactly done wonders for his ability to sleep on a real bed- and holy hell, she's huge. Like _the other guy himself is probably shorter than this_ kind of huge. Massively barrel chested in a way no human will ever be and dramatically wasp-waisted, with formidable, crickety legs ending in small cloven feet peaking out of her white stirrup socks.

Her split red-blue cropped jacket is folded up to the elbows of her absolutely massive, muscled arms, and the fact that she's wearing a white collared crop-top and literal hotpants does absolutely nothing to mitigate the fact that her wide, clawed hands are big enough to squeeze his head between two fingers like a grape.

Well, one pair of arms. The other set, resting at her waist, is almost comically skinny with their high sleeved fingerless gloves.

"You're, uh... Sunstone?"

"You better believe it, Bob." Her smile is somehow even wider at his recognition.

"Wasn't our thing at 1?"

"It's 1:30!" she blares cheerfully.

"What, no way, there's no way I slept that long-"

Sunstone simply holds up her smartphone, and sure enough- 1:30.

"Anyways!" Her song rolls on. "I'mma let you get dressed while I put on some food. How's Welsh rarebit sound?"

"That sounds... pretty good, actually. I'm kinda craving a bread-and-cheese type of thing."

"Great, 'cause I was already making it!"

" _Wait, how did you know I was going to say yes-_ "

But she was already herding him to his room with a smile. "Now go get dressed before the line break, kid!"

=<>=

" _Holy fuck, this is good._ "

Sunstone takes a humble bite out of her not so humble slice of rarebit. "The secret is using the right kind of mustard for the sauce."

"Well it paid off. What kind of beer did you use for it?"

"English ale!"

"Nice." He pauses halfway through attacking a sausage. "Wait, weren't we supposed to be having our appointment?"

"We're havin' it right now! I don't got anywhere to be today, so take as much time as you need." Her voice rolls like a chill line of bass guitars. "How's the meds been treatin' ya?"

And wasn't _that_ a rollercoaster and a half. Of all the stuff he could have been put through when he signed on for this, plain old medicine was the last idea on his mind. Alien medicine, but still. 

"It's been okay, I think. My general anxiety's gone down a lot, but I think I've been spacing out sometimes, when I'm not doing anything. And sleeping more than usual."

She nods sagely, like it was something she expected. "Can't always get it on the first try. We'll make sure it gets adjusted."

"Honestly, if a little spaciness and sleepiness is the price I pay to never go Hulk again, I can live with that." He laughs into his honeyed pine tea. "You know, a piece of rebar fell out of the sky right in front of me and I didn't turn a single shade of green? I mean, I freaked out, but I didn't _freak out_ , y'know? God, the _idea_ that I could just.. go even a single day without worrying about the other guy, I... it's more than I could have ever asked for."

"Woah there," she cuts in, "we ain't tryin' to _get rid_ of your big guy, Bob."

"We aren't?"

"Nah, brah. We gotta work _with_ the big guy, not against him."

"Uhhh..." He can't help but raise his eyebrows at that. "He's kind of a monster. Can't exactly reason with him."

"I think we can," she rebuffs brightly.

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"Well he's never gone out of his way to hurt anybody has he?"

"Well," Now that he thinks about it... "I guess not."

"And you said he only comes out when you feel like you're in danger, right?"

"Yeah... he's still so _reckless_ , though-"

" _But,_ " she cuts with a raised, small hand, "he's only tryin' to help. He ain't any bully, and he certainly ain't any monster." And the drum of her song is firm and determined, but it is not unkind, and neither is the tilt of her gappy smile. "Ain't anything to be helped. He's there to stay, but most importantly- he's a part of you now. So why don't you be a little kind to yourself?"

And what can he possibly say to that?

"I- I'll try."

"That's all ya gotta do, man."

Her smile is as bright of the sun, and the song of her voice is the strange, implacable, impossible feeling that everything's going to be okay- maybe not today, or tomorrow, but someday nonetheless.

It's a feeling he hasn't felt in a long, long time.

It's almost terrifying.

He'd like to feel it again, someday.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when a certain proportion of pink ichor is used in a blend, the collective substance can work on organics. this is the meds that bruce is talking about
> 
> I just love sunstone, okay


	6. Tell Me Again, About How It Hurts,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being awfully loud, for an introvert.

* * *

He's out with Sunstone again.

Her fiery mane sways in the ocean breeze while they both sit cross legged on the shore.

There is not a sound of word or song, here. There is only the rolling, rattling hiss of sands scattered in the sea.

It would be so easy to close his eyes and

when he opens them, he is no longer at the beach.

Or maybe he is. He can still hear, distantly, the shift of wind and waves, feel the sand not quite brush against his legs, the texture-not-texture of the Gem-made tracksuit he was told to wear today.

But he _sees_ himself. Himself, reflected in the vast, marbled, mirrored ground of an alien, timeless landscape, wearing the purple dress shirt Betty used to joke was only worn when he thought he was either gonna have a really good day- or a really bad one.

Sunstone sits across from him. She is Sunstone, sitting across from him with her signature sunny smile, and she is Asteria Diamond in the distance, a tall purple Gem by his side.

He is Bruce Banner, standing with his back toward himself far away, holding a pair of chains against his wrists. Chains that rattle and struggle and he sees himself, kneeling against the ground, desperately pulling up, trying not to sink down into the floor.

"Don't fight it."

"But it hurts," he hears himself say. "It's not safe. _I'm not safe._ "

"It's okay," Sunstone rasps, soft and gentle and almost sweet. "Just let go."

And bit by bit, he listens.

And link by link, he drops his chains that strike and slither like snakes from his raw, chipped hands and it hurts, at first.

He sees the hand rising out of the floor, large and wide and with all the same scars as his own as he reaches out to meet it and

he opens his eyes.

He feels the alien thread of his clothes, shifted in some way he can't quite pinpoint.

He feels the sand, somehow finer than before, against his bare feet.

He hears, loud and present and so uncomfortably alive, the drum of the sea.

He sees Sunstone before him, somehow smaller now. Everything feels... _smaller_.

Why does it-

_His hands._

His hands are... green. _He's_ green. He reaches for Banner's glasses in his pocket-

- _his_ glasses? No, ~~Banner's~~

~~Bruce~~ ~~~~

~~Other~~ ~~~~

~~Hulk~~ ~~~~

~~Banner~~ ~~~~

~~Hulk~~ ~~~~

~~B̶̨̢͓̮̗̺͈̹̯̹͌̾̐̀̑̋̈́̃̊̽̚͝a̷̛͖͒̄̍̂̒͑̀̕͝ṉ̷̢̧̢̛̯̮̩̥̥̫̳͉̻̭̌̇̋̑̍͑̈́̆̒̋̔̓̚n̵̖̻̤͕͉̰̙͋́̏͛ȇ̵̡̛͓͇̩͔̳̫̻̦͔̤͍̰̫̉̈́͒͑͂͂̈́̾͛̇̑̾ř̶̨͈͓͌̓́͌̉̕͜͝͝͝~~

~~̵̠̪̠̗͘H̷̨̧̱̠̗͓̲̠̝͊͆̆́͂̚͘͠ư̸͓̺͌͋͒̈̿͒̾l̷̥̪͍̠̖̻̲̬̈́͘̕ͅķ̷̧̡͉̰̤̜̝̝̭͓͔̜̔̍ͅ~~

~~B̶̨̢͓̮̗̺͈̹̯̹͌̾̐̀̑̋̈́̃̊̽̚͝a̷̛͖͒̄̍̂̒͑̀̕͝ṉ̷̢̧̢̛̯̮̩̥̥̫̳͉̻̭̌̇̋̑̍͑̈́̆̒̋̔̓̚n̵̖̻̤͕͉̰̙͋́̏͛ȇ̵̡̛͓͇̩͔̳̫̻̦͔̤͍̰̫̉̈́͒͑͂͂̈́̾͛̇̑̾ř̶̨͈͓͌̓́͌̉̕͜͝͝͝  
̵̞̟̟͔̒̋͆̾͒̚̕  
̵̠̪̠̗͘H̷̨̧̱̠̗͓̲̠̝͊͆̆́͂̚͘͠ư̸͓̺͌͋͒̈̿͒̾l̷̥̪͍̠̖̻̲̬̈́͘̕ͅķ̷̧̡͉̰̤̜̝̝̭͓͔̜̔̍ͅ~~

Banner's?

...

...glasses, a force of habit, and he finds them too small to see through, too frail to be handled so casually by ~~Hulk~~ ~~**Banner**~~ _~~Hulk~~_ _~~**Banner**~~_ _his_ hands.

_His hands._

His?

His.

His. Something- someone- neither Robert Bruce Banner, or the Hulk, but...

...someone.

Someone, but who?

Is it Robert-Bruce-Banner-Doc-Professor-Target-Other-Guy-Hulk- _Beast- **Monster**_ -

"Hey."

Sunstone's voice is soft, but it breaks the tunneled static of his thoughts like a hot knife. He looks back at her-

(he wonders if his eyes are green, like the other guy, or dark, like Banner's-)

(it's strange that he still has to look _up_ , to meet her eyes, he isn't used to being small-)

-and her smile is... excited? Proud? Almost _awed_ , as though she's witnessed something extraordinary.

"Welcome to the party, Prof."

_Prof._

It is not yet a name, but it is something neither here or there, so it will have to do for now.

"Well-" he startles, just a little bit, at the sound of his own voice, both louder and softer than he thinks it should have been. "Sorry I'm late, I guess?"

His smile is not the nervous quirk of Banner's, or the animal aggression of what others had called the Hulk. It's this odd, awkward tilt that objectively borders on a bashful cringe, but it is open and sincere. 

Not bad for a first try.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the greatest utility that steven's fusion brings to the table is the ability to act as an emulator. through him, gem powers can work on organic beings
> 
> gems are literally capable of psychic vibing and I love it
> 
> sunstone: hey wear these gem clothes that are capable of automatic size adjusting  
> bruce: why  
> sunstone: oh, you know _;)_


	7. It's Going To Be A Fine Day, Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prof has a good day.

* * *

Picking clothes is a chore.

Well. Not a chore in the way that most people would think, looking the 8'2" chaos that is one tentatively named Robert Oliver Banner. Gems are shapeshifters, after all- it'd be an awfully big oversight for them not to have figured out properly sizable clothes by now. He's not exactly starved for options here.

It's the actual decision making that's the daily bitch.

He hovers over the one buttoned shirt he owns.

_(No.)_

_[It looks nice.]_

_(Don't like it.)_

_[We'll have to tackle buttons eventually. You realize this, right.]_

_(Don't want to.)_

_[It's inevitable.]_

_(Not today.)_

Tweed and long cardigans it is, then. Can't argue with tweed and cardigans. They come in nice, neutral colors and the texture is... grounding. Both rough and soft.

At least pants aren't that much of an argument. Not much to argue over anyway, thank fucking god. He can just imagine the indignities if he had to wrestle himself over pants.

Breakfast is less of a debate and more of a run-on sentence. Pancakes are in the eye of the beholder, and if the beholder has decided that yes, cranberries, ricotta _and_ sausages are a completely valid combination, that's just how it is. Put some syrup on there with a side of eggs, it's great.

Take a morning walk. He takes morning walks now, which is absolutely wild, and absolutely inconceivable to the people he used to be almost a year ago. Too scary, too dangerous, too unsafe. But when one's next door neighbors are bouncing four-armed pufferfish people, 12 foot tall sentient cacti, and not having retractable fangs and claws makes _you_ the weird one?

Suddenly a buff green eight-footer who can stop a semi by standing in front of it is almost normal. Seriously. How many walls have been broken in the last week by someone who isn't him? At least _he's_ careful.

The incident with the crucible is an outlier and doesn't count. He just got frustrated. It was very much broken on purpose.

Maybe.

Not that he'll ever admit that to Bismuth. Because he values his life. Shocking, isn't it.

What was he doing again?

Probably getting more breakfast. An excellent idea.

_**FUCK WE FORGOT OUR FUCKING CHOPSTICKS AT HOME-** _

So on the other hand, when he went back.

Everything's chill. He found his chopsticks and now he can finally eat his fire salt tater tots in peace.

What? Fire salt is a perfectly valid food seasoning. Professor Pearl can step off.

The crow on his shoulder can stay, though.

"Sup, Archie."

Archie lets out a watery laser noise.

"That's a new noise. I see you've been hanging out in the arcade."

Archie hops along his shoulder, clicking its beak.

"Yeah, yeah. Greedy little bastard." He lifts up a tater tot with his chopsticks, which gets politely taken off his hands and cleanly devoured. "Don't know how you can stand this kind of spice. Most of the humans can't." He stands up from off the bench. "Gotta go to class. Buzz off, little guy. You didn't pay tuition." Not that _anyone_ pays tuition at Little Homeworld, but whatever.

But Archie remains bravely perched on his shoulder.

"Alright then," he mockingly relents. "I'll just put in a good word for you."

It's quick enough work, taking the next truck back to Little Homeworld. By the time he gets to class, there's a Ruby on his other shoulder, with two Geodes on _her_ shoulders. They laugh as they get gently tossed to their seats, and he finally puts on his glasses. "Morning, class."

" _Morning, Prof Oliver,_ " echoes back the song of 23 students.

"Nice accessory you got there, Prof!" snarks Lace Amethyst.

"Excuse you, Archie is my teaching assistant today and I will _not_ be tolerating any disrespect for him." As the laughter dies down, he scans the gathered class. "Is Rose Quartz coming in today?"

"She's out for rehearsal," calls out Blue Lace Agate. "I'm doing notes for her."

"Then I guess that's everyone here for today." He claps his hands together. "Alright, Gems. Welcome back to _Human Safety And Anatomy_. Now who here can tell me what the hierarchy of needs is?"

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is a bridge, really. 
> 
> There's a very specific place I wanted Prof to be in time for avengers 1, and this fic was about getting him there. this certainly isn't the end of him as a character in the series- if it was, I would have made this fic _way_ longer, in order to give him the proper justice he deserves. but here we are in the future, I guess.
> 
> prof will return for avengers 1.

**Author's Note:**

> Join the Discord server for draft bits, behind the scenes nonsense, yearning questions of my questionable literary choices, and future stories.
> 
> https://discord.gg/xdhnqKj
> 
> This series now has a dedicated written timeline for the curious in the series companion guide, which is the last "fic" listed in the series page.


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